


I choose you

by casdoms (moffwithhishead)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode Tag, Episode: s11e05 Thin Lizzie, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, Love Confessions, M/M, Switching, kinda but not really just... implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5191535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffwithhishead/pseuds/casdoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don’t talk about it.</p><p>The first night that Cas is home after Rowena lifts the spell, he sleeps in Dean’s bed, wearing Dean’s clothes, curled up in Dean’s arms. The second night ends with Dean kissing Cas’ forehead after resting in bed for the day.</p><p>And then there’s real kisses.</p><p>Cas kisses him the fourth morning when they’re standing in the bathroom brushing their teeth. Dean’s toothbrush is knocking against his front teeth and he swallows a little bit of toothpaste but it’s - it’s good. It’s real.</p><p>They kiss easily, like they’ve been doing it for years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I choose you

**Author's Note:**

> if you know anything about me, you know that I'm a firm believer **_something_** happened in purgatory. this is set in the current canon after 11.05. because cas is safe in the bunker, and dean's finally dean again, and maybe the world's about to go to shit **_again_** but for once they're together. somehow I don't think they'd let that go to waste.
> 
> and I really want somebody to be gentle with them both and to give them loving touches. sue me.
> 
> title from "[I choose you](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/sarabareilles/ichooseyou.html)" by sara bareilles. I'd recommend finding the acoustic version and listening to it. [this song](https://youtu.be/ntxQdX0C3_0) was a close second for the title.
> 
> obligatory apologies. it's been a minute since I wrote smut.

They don’t talk about it.

The first night that Cas is home after Rowena lifts the spell, he sleeps in Dean’s bed, wearing Dean’s clothes, curled up in Dean’s arms. The second night ends with Dean kissing Cas’ forehead after resting in bed for the day.

And then there’s real kisses.

Cas kisses him the fourth morning when they’re standing in the bathroom brushing their teeth. Dean’s toothbrush is knocking against his front teeth and he swallows a little bit of toothpaste but it’s - it’s good. It’s real.

They kiss easily, like they’ve been doing it for years.

Dean finds even more reasons to touch Cas, because he can now, because he’s here and alive. His hands under his shirt when they’re watching TV, his legs in Cas’ lap when they’re researching, his thumb brushing over Cas’ cheekbones in bed late at night. 

They’re not trying to hide anything, not really, but Dean’s not sure if Sam notices. It’s not like there’s much to notice. 

Cas is borrowing Dean’s clothes and they’ve been smiling a little more. Their shoulders touch when they’re near each other. Dean’s fingers twitch when Cas’ hand is close enough to grab.

They don’t talk about it because there’s not much to talk about.

They’re both alive. Nobody’s dying or cursed or a pseudo Knight of Hell. There’s no purgatory, no Metatron, no Naomi, no nothing. There’s just the Darkness looming around them, literally and figuratively. 

And they’re both just so damn  _tired_  of pretending.

“Hey,” Dean clears his throat awkwardly. They’re halfway home from the Lizzy Borden case and it’s the dead of night, there’s nothing on the radio.

Sam’s half-asleep anyway so maybe this is the perfect time.

Dean licks his lips, hesitating and pretending his hands aren’t sweating so much that they keep slipping over the steering wheel, “Me and Cas -” 

“Dean.” Sam’s leaning against the window and he doesn’t even bother opening his eyes, “I know.” 

There’s a mixture of emotions at that admission. Dean’s not sure how he feels about that but there’s also an undeniable warmth in his chest.

Sam knows and it’s okay.

“Cool,” he says instead of something stupid like ‘thank you’ or ‘I’m happy.’ “Don’t make it weird.” 

Sam snorts and blindly reaches over, shoving Dean’s face fondly.

“Shut up.” 

 

* * *

 

Cas isn’t awake when they get home.

Dean’s been pretending that it doesn’t freak him out how easily Cas sleeps now. How  _soundly_  he sleeps. 

He ignores the constant gnawing of fear and doubt and starts taking off his clothes. 

Cas is wearing an old gym shirt that Dean got at Good Will probably ten years ago. It’s huge and there’s holes and grease stains all over it. His hair is a disaster, like he hasn’t moved from the bed all day.

Dean’s heart does an impressive flip of love and concern. 

He slides under the covers next to Cas and pulls him close so his chest is pressed up against Cas’ back. He’s nosing at the short little curls of Castiel’s neck, content to stay like this for the rest of his life.

Safe. Warm. Loved. 

Cas stirs a little bit, an annoyed noise escaping him, “Dean...?” 

He smiles against Cas’ neck and presses another kiss there, “Hi.” 

Castiel turns his body around slowly, still half asleep. He tucks his face into Dean’s neck as soon as he can and sighs contently, “You’re home early...” 

Dean wraps his arms around Cas and slips a leg in between his thighs, “Made good time.” 

He feels more than he hears the humming noise Cas makes against his neck.

One of Cas’ hands finds its way up the back of Dean’s shirt and comes to a stop just under his shoulder blades, “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” Dean’s voice cracks a little bit. “Yeah, um...” He tightens his arms around Cas again, “Yeah, I’m good...” 

He hesitates and licks his lips, “Better now.” 

Castiel smiles and presses a light kiss to Dean’s collarbone, “Mmm, good.” 

“Missed you,” Dean mumbles, his cheeks heating ridiculously. 

“I missed you too,” Cas murmurs and kisses his jaw.

Dean’s sure that Cas can feel how hard his heart is hammering in his chest but he wonders if Cas can feel how much his hands are shaking. “G’night, Cas.” 

Cas answers him with a snore. 

Dean falls asleep with a smile on his face. 

 

* * *

 

“Hey.” Dean bumps Cas’ chest with his foot while they’re laying on the couch watching Netflix. His legs are in Cas’ lap and he’s sitting on the opposite side of the couch, facing Cas instead of the TV. He’s said it like six times already, has even poked Cas’ face with his foot a couple times.

God, he’s really into this stupid show.

Cas pauses the TV with a loud, put-upon sigh and glares at Dean, “What?” 

Dean grins at him and fights the urge to reach over and smooth down his hair, “Guess what?” 

“Dean, I  _swear_  if you say chicken butt one more time -” Cas cuts himself off with a murderous glare.

His hand is still resting on top of Dean’s ankle though and cupping it gently, his thumb brushing over the skin ever so often. 

He can’t help the small laugh that escapes him at that, and the resulting look from Cas makes Dean bark out a real, genuine laugh.

Castiel huffs and turns the show back on, grumbling something under his breath.

Dean steals the remote and pauses the show, ignoring the indignant squawk from Cas as he crawls across the couch so he’s sitting in his lap. 

This doesn’t seem to appease him at all, much to Dean’s amusement. 

He leans down and presses a kiss to the wrinkles on Cas’ forehead that show up when he scowls, “Pay attention to me for five minutes, grumpy, and then you can go back to watching TV.” 

Cas’ hands reluctantly come up and rest on Dean’s hips, “I feel as if my weaknesses are being used against me.” 

“I’ll stop when you start complaining about it,” Dean murmurs before pulling Cas into a slow kiss.

“That’s -” Cas mumbles into the kiss and surges up, meeting Dean eagerly, “Unfair.” 

Dean huffs a laugh and pushes Cas back against the couch gently, “Slow down. I really was trying to tell you something.” 

Castiel ignores him and starts kissing down Dean’s jaw to his collarbone, “You wanted to talk...” He nips at Dean’s pulse point gently, a content rumbling noise filling the room when his Grace flares happily at the action, “Talk.” 

Dean groans quietly and grabs a fistful of Cas’ hair, “Fuck you.” 

“I suppose that can be arranged,” Cas mumbles and shoots Dean a smirk.

He lets out a groan-laugh in response and rolls his hips down hard for good measure, “You’re not funny.” 

Castiel huffs before sucking a nice big hickey on Dean’s neck, “I wasn’t trying to be funny.” 

Dean moans quietly and hides his face in Cas’ neck as his hips start moving, grinding down onto the thick thighs supporting him. 

Cas’ hands move up further under his shirt as he continues, settling under his shoulder blades, Dean’s shirt rucked up in a ridiculous way. He’s kissing every patch of skin he can see, letting himself have this with Dean without fear or the imminent threat of death.

Lets them both have this for once.

He whines petulantly when Dean leans back to take off his shirt and pouts. It earns him a laugh and then Dean’s pulling him into another kiss, this one deeper and filthier than the others.

“Dean,” he murmurs, his head spinning with it. “ _Dean_.” 

“I’m here,” Dean whispers back without breaking the kiss, his hips still moving of their own accord. “I’m here, Cas.” 

The room feels unreasonably hot for a cold day in Kansas. 

Castiel slips a hand into Dean’s jeans and just settles it right on his hip, his thumb rubbing slow circles at the bottom of Dean’s stomach mindlessly. His other fingers tighten minutely when Dean ruts against his sweatpants finally, his erection getting some friction from the jeans.

They both make slightly broken noises, their hips stuttering in time.

“ _Dean_.” 

Castiel hates how his voice shakes when he says it. “ _Dean_.” 

He’s practically begging and he’s not even sure what he wants. They haven’t done this in years, haven’t touched like this since purgatory. He doesn’t want to move too fast, doesn’t want to mess this up.

“Hey,” Dean murmurs and pulls back just enough to rest their foreheads together. “’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

Dean presses a kiss to his forehead and starts kissing his way down Cas’ face, making sure to pay attention to the handful of wrinkles he’s rocking and the bags under his eyes that never seem to go away.

Cas’ Grace hums contently in him and he makes a slightly wounded noise.

“Tell me what you need, Cas,” Dean whispers. “I’ve got you.” 

“You. I just -” He closes his eyes and his hands tighten on Dean’s hips, “You. Please.” His voice sounds more raw, more honest.

Dean smiles against his jaw and nods, keeping his voice quiet, “Okay.” 

He moves slowly as he shifts them so Cas is laying down on the sofa with Dean on top of him.

Their kisses are slower now, passionate in a more gentle way for them. 

Dean’s heart feels like it’s in his throat, his hands shaking a little as they push Cas’ flannel shirt off his shoulders. Something inside of him swells with affection when he realizes the shirt is one of his favorite ones.

By an unspoken agreement, their pants stay on.

Dean rolls his hips down easily and grabs one of Cas’ hands, twining their fingers together like he’s trying to keep him from floating away. 

Cas pulls Dean into a kiss again, moving against Dean the best he can at this angle.

It’s embarrassing how hard they both are, how they both have wet spots on their pants. Dean wants to laugh at the noises they’re both making, needy and desperate. He feels like he’s seventeen again and in the back of Danny Mora’s pick up truck. 

“Dean,” Cas murmurs, his voice shaking again. 

They’re both ridiculously close already and it takes a Herculean amount of effort for Dean to pull away from the kiss. He’s breathless and he knows by the noise Cas makes that he looks as wrecked as he feels.

“Can I -” He swallows nervously and flicks his eyes down to Cas’ crotch, his cheeks flaring at the obvious tenting. 

“Yes,” Cas breathes out, almost laughing. “Yes.” 

Dean smiles and leans in to kiss Cas again as he slips his hands into the sweatpants. He wraps a loose fist around Cas and tugs experimentally, his brain dusting off the memories of what makes Cas lose it. 

Castiel makes a punched-out noise and rolls his hips up into Dean’s grip, his free hand grabbing his shoulder. 

“Fuck,” Dean mumbles, his forehead falling onto Cas’ collarbone while his hand works. He tightens his grip and speeds up, wanting to make this good for Cas.

“Dean,” Castiel gasps on the upstroke, his hips stuttering. “I - I’m -” 

He nods and starts sucking a hickey onto the base of Cas’ neck, because he can, because he wants everybody to know that Cas is his. He’s taken. 

“I got you,” he promises and moves up to look at Cas’ face.

 _God_ , he’s gorgeous like this. 

Castiel hooks his ankle around one of Dean’s and then all it takes is a few more strokes before he’s coming in his pants and all over Dean’s hand.

The power surges for a second and Dean swears he hears a lightbulb shatter down the hall. The familiar feeling of  _warmth_  seems to settle over his soul and suddenly he’s chanting Cas’ name, the feeling of love and devotion pulsing through him like a hurricane. 

All Cas has to do is kiss him and murmur, “I’m here, Dean. I have you.” 

Dean’s falls over the edge embarrassingly easy; a choked yell of Cas’ name is the only sound in the room. 

He flops down on top of Cas, exhausted and content even as the familiar presence of Cas’ Grace leaves him. 

After a moment, Cas’ arms come up and wrap around Dean’s back protectively.

They’re a mess and their pants might be a lost cause.

Dean’s finding it really hard to care about that with Cas murmuring Enochian in his ear and his big, strong hands rubbing his back. 

“Same,” he mumbles eventually, smiling against Cas’ neck. 

“Hmmm?” Castiel hums, bumps his nose against Dean’s temple affectionately.

Dean hesitates for a moment, wondering if he was remembering the translation wrong. 

“I just... you know. Me too.”

Castiel stills for a beat before relaxing again, and Dean wonders if he knows that he can feel how hard his heart is hammering in his chest. 

“Good,” Cas settles on eventually, his arms tightening a little bit.

“Good,” Dean echoes with a small smile pressed to Cas’ skin. 

 

* * *

 

That night when they’re laying in bed and the lights are off, Cas presses a kiss to the back of Dean’s neck and asks, “What did you want to tell me?” 

Dean hums quietly, half asleep and his brain barely functioning. 

Castiel huffs a laugh and tightens his arms around Dean, hooks an ankle around his, “On the sofa. You said you had something to tell me.” 

The room is quiet for a few moments, the only sound is the heating kicking on.

Cas thinks Dean might have fallen asleep but then Dean moves a hand so it’s resting on top of Cas’. 

“I just...” The back of his neck is turning pink. It makes Cas smile. 

“I’m glad you’re here. With us. Even if -” Dean licks his lips and his voice drops to a whisper, “Even if it’s for a shitty reason.” 

Dean lets Cas twine their fingers together and mumbles, “I’m glad you’re home.”

Castiel tucks his head into the crook of Dean’s neck and smiles against his skin, “Me too.” 

 

* * *

 

 

_ “How fragile we are, between the few good moments.” _

  
**JANE HIRSHFIELD** , FROM “[VINEGAR AND OIL](http://deansmom.tumblr.com/post/128512926335/how-fragile-we-are-between-the-few-good-moments),” COME, THIEF: POEMS (ALFRED A. KNOPF, 2011)

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at deansmom.


End file.
